The beauty in chaos
by fangirl2.099
Summary: There is an avalanche of feelings when Remus Lupin and Sirius Black meet again after Black s twelve years in Azkaban. They miss each other, they remember happy memories together, they are hurt and grieving but they want to get up and build a future. Together.


_Lupin was lowering his wand. Next moment, he had walked to Black´s side, seized his hand, pulled him to his feet so that Crookshanks fell to the floor, and embraced Black._

The moment Remus Lupin touched Sirius Black, the moment his arms got around Black and his touch washed way the tiredness, the hurting and twelve years in Azkaban, the moment Sirius inhaled the familiar smell of Remus Lupin´s cardigan time went back in reverse. Lupin´s body against his was like a time machine that took him back to his teen years, to _their_ teen years and flashed everything he loved, missed and had shared with Remus right in front of his eyes.

If there was one thing that had saved Sirius Black while he was in Azkaban was a memory about Remus Lupin, a memory that didn´t even exist but that he hoped it would someday. What saved Sirius in Azkaban was the thought, the mere possibility, that he maybe could see Lupin again. So he didn´t think about happy past memories that would be sucked out of him until he was empty and rotting, no, Sirius back clenched the possibility, the slight hope, that one day he _would_ be with Remus again.

Dementors suck every happy memory, every single good thing someone´s soul might, even deep down, have, but there is one thing neither Dementors nor anyone can suck out and destroy: hope.

Twelve years of blocking thoughts about the only person he wanted to think about, the only memories that didn´t made him hurt. Sirius couldn´t think that James was dead and that he could have even a fraction of guilt in that, he couldn´t think about Lily, about Harry, his godson, who had become an orphan in that unfaithful night, he couldn´t think about Peter who had betrayed them all, he couldn´t think that _he_ had given Peter a path to betray them. The only thing Sirius Black could and wanted to think about was Remus Lupin. But he didn´t. He didn´t allow himself to waist his happy thoughts. He kept them close and locked and instead focused on the day he could think about them again.

This was the day. As his hands clasped Remus´ shoulders he inhaled and it was the best thing in the whole entire world. The smell of tea, book´s dust and chocolate. The smell of _Lupin_.

Sirius cried. It wasn´t a beautiful, elegant cry. It wasn´t simply happy tears. It was ugly crying, sobbing because he had missed him, because he was finally here, because he finally allowed himself to _think,_ to _feel_ and because that hurt. All the pain and grief he had been holding, the pain and grief he hadn´t allowed himself to feel came to the surface like a tsunami that flooded his eyes.

Sirius Black buried his face on Remus´ neck with all the, little, dignity he had left and allowed himself to cry and feel. His tears were rolling down his face to Remus´ neck stopping at his collarbones.

How Sirius loved those collarbones… so sharp but yet so oddly welcoming. Some people thought Remus looked bony, Sirius thought, no, Sirius _knew_ that Lupin looked and felt like home.

All the little things about Remus made Sirius want to cry. To happy cry in devotion to all that perfection.

Sirius sobbed.

"Moony…"

His face burying deeper into Remus´ neck and into his cardigan, inhaling deeper and sensing a slight smell of smoke.

Black wondered if Lupin still smoked just like he used to do. He wondered if the little freckles he used to have on his chest and back hadn´t faded. He hoped they hadn´t, he hoped he could trace and map them out again. He wondered if he still kept his, obnoxious, collection of pressed flowers and plants between the pages of his books and that Sirius secretly loved. He wondered if Remus still loved big, old books and dusty libraries as much as he used to. By the smell he did and Sirius had never loved that smell as much as in that moment. He wondered if Remus still went on walks through the woods, if he went alone, without him.

Sirius wondered if Remus still wrote. If he still kept _that_ book.

Sirius Black would never forget the day he found that book. The time he stayed at Hogwarts with Lupin instead of going to Hogsmead. How he had gone to that dormitory to get his book and to meet Lupin in the library and pretend he was studying Potions while he was actually studying Remus, even sketching him sometimes. He would never forget how he had dropped his books and how he had found Remus´ book, Remus´ diary under the bed. He had sat on the four poster bed; he had opened it and read it. There was poetry. Some made him smile, some made him cry and some wouldn´t even be considered poetry for some people. In some of the poems there was no rime, no metric but still Sirius would swear on his life that it still was poetry, that it had all the feelings in it to make it poetry, that it still had a sound to it and the fact that it wasn´t constricted by rules, the fact that it was free only made it better.

And then there was that text. The one that was written in sloppy, messy and fast handwriting that contrasted with the pointed, carefully crafted handwriting of the other pages where the words had been written after days of thought and ponderation about feelings. Not in that text. That text was a soul poured directly on paper. It wasn´t poetry. Sirius could not stick a label on it but now, if he had to describe it, he would say it was pure, raw feelings stuck directly into parchment.

Sirius had sat on his bed and read it all.

 _"_ _I can´t breathe._

 _My hands clasp the parchment in a failed attempt to force oxygen into my lungs._

 _I can´t breathe._

 _I feel like I´m drowning._

 _My head is wondering through paths I´ll probably never walk. It´s a frenzy of mixed thoughts that intrigue me so much I catch my breath. Just like when you dive and get so mesmerized by the peace and quiet underwater you forget you need to breathe until pressure hits your chest like a projectile making your lungs, your heart, your veins scream in despair._

 _If at least my thoughts were quiet and peaceful instead of an avalanche of indistinct confusion cascading through my brain and trying to ruin everything at its passage._

 _I wish I wasn´t so confused. I wish I hadn´t this mixed thoughts. And then, as quickly as it started, it stops._

 _My mind inhales and tells me I need to prevail._

 _Maybe I should embrace confusion. Maybe there is no interest in security and certainties._

 _Perhaps there is something harmonious in the mess. Perhaps there is enlightenment in the turmoil, answers in the clutter._

 _Perhaps there is beauty in chaos."_

Sirius would never forget Lupin´s face when he had entered the dormitory and saw him reading the book. Sirius would never forget how he had pushed Lupin to the bed and into his arms, how he had hugged him tight and traced his skin with light fingers like he was painting a masterpiece. How he had let Remus cry and had cried as well.

Now, all this years later, Sirius took his hand to Remus´ face and touched the scared skin wondering how many scars and damage Lupin had had to handle alone. Black could feel Remus´ tears under his touch.

Remus was whispering nonstop.

"Sirius…Padfoot…"

Sirius pulled back slightly and looked at Remus´ face.

They were both hurt, they were both broken and neither of them was pretending not to be.

They had holes on their chests that were never going to find the original piece back but they could fill them up with something else.

As they looked at each other deep in the eyes they knew they had to fill them with something _together._

They were broken. Yes. They were suffering. Yes. But maybe they could learn how to deal and live with that. Maybe together things wouldn´t be so difficult because now, at least, they had each other back and a future to build. Yes, maybe they could find themselves again just like they had found each other.

 _Perhaps there could be beauty in their chaos._


End file.
